


Rain

by TechDuinn (SnarkMonster)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Implied Character Death (not K or S), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnarkMonster/pseuds/TechDuinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here comes the rain again,</p><p>Falling on my head like a memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

Jim woke to the sound of thunder. The accompanying _rat-a-tat_  of raindrops beating the window nearly soothed him back to sleep, but a sudden flash of lightning seared the inside of his closed eyelids, effectively rousing him again. He buried his face into his pillow with a plaintive moan and blindly reached out to Spock’s side of the bed, but his searching fingers encountered nothing but cool sheets and a discarded sleep mask. Jim sighed despite this being an occurrence he had long grown used to. With a grumble, he heaved himself up to get a glance at the clock, which showed it to still be far too early in the morning for Spock to have already risen for the day.  

Grumbling, he threw off the covers and snatched his robe off the floor. A brief flash of lightning illuminated the room just as he pulled open the bedroom door.  Jim paused in the doorway and counted. At six, thunder rattled the window pane. He nodded to himself and made his way downstairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards on his way down.

He searched Spock’s makeshift office and the kitchen, but Spock was nowhere to be found. It was only when he entered the living room that he saw a soft, barely perceptible glow coming from the porch. Jim made his way to the front door and peeked around the curtains, a victorious smile curving his lips when he caught sight of Spock seated on the porch swing, a candle burning on the table in front of him.

Jim opened the door and was instantly assaulted by a chilly wind that blew through his cotton t-shirt and boxer briefs as if they weren’t even there. Nearly slamming the door in his haste, he cinched his robe tight and beelined it for Spock, who held the edge of the blanket he’d wrapped himself in open in invitation. Jim huddled under it just as another bolt of lightning wrenched the sky.

Jim took hold of Spock’s arm and hugged it tight to his chest before tucking his cold face against the back of Spock’s shoulder.

“You did it again,” he muttered accusingly over a weak crash of thunder, trying to press closer to Spock’s warmth.

Spock responded by brushing a Vulcankiss across his palm, which Jim had learned was more a gesture of placation rather than apology. He harrumphed into Spock’s shoulder and laced their fingers.

“The storm woke me,” Spock said.

“And you couldn’t have gone back to sleep like a normal person?”

“I …wished to observe. I have never seen a rainstorm of such magnitude.”

At that, Jim lifted his head. “Never?”

“You forget that I come from a desert planet, Jim. In Shi'Kahr, our rains came but rarely, and never in such abundance.”

 “Hmm.” Jim ducked his head back against Spock’s shoulder. “Well, get used to it. It rains cats and dogs during the summer.”

“Cats and—”

A blinding flash of lightning was followed by an immediate and near eardrum-popping boom. Spock tensed suddenly, his fingers seizing around Jim’s. Jim hissed in pain and the vice-like grip immediately loosened.

“I apologize, Jim.” Spock gently pulled Jim’s hand from beneath the blanket to assess the damage.

“It’s fine,” Jim lied. “Doesn’t even hurt.”

Spock ran his fingers lightly over Jim’s palm, bowing his head to press a genuinely apologetic kiss against his knuckles.

Jim studied him for a moment. “You know, I just realized the thunder sounds a lot like—”

“Yes,” Spock interjected bleakly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Jim swallowed resolutely past the squeeze in his throat and pulled Spock into a snug embrace. He slid his hand across Spock’s abdomen to rest over the outside of his left ribcage, where an artificial heart beat a fast paced tattoo against his fingertips.

 “Calm down,” Jim instructed, running his hand over Spock’s side soothingly. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”  

Lightning flared again, the ominous rumble sounding a split second later. Jim felt as the tempo of Spock’s heart sped to a near hum.  

“Come on, Spock. You have to calm down. You know what Bones said.”

Spock nodded once before pulling away and drawing deep, meditative breaths. When another bolt of lightning split the sky Spock didn’t react beyond a fluttering clench of his fingers on Jim’s thigh, but his body was rigid from the effort.

Jim threw an arm over the back of the swing, his hand gently cupping Spock’s arm. He leaned in to rest his forehead against Spock’s cheek, and was heartened when Spock pressed ever so slightly into the contact.

“When I was little,” Jim said quietly, “I was terrified of thunderstorms. Don’t remember why, exactly. Maybe it was sense memory of being born in a firefight. Who knows.”

Around them, the wind picked up, sending a fine, misting spray of raindrops across the porch. The candle flickered, but didn’t go out.

“I would always wake my mom up and climb into bed with her.  She didn’t mind. Actually, I think she liked it. I didn’t like to sit still for very long as a kid, and Mom loved to cuddle. She’d wrap me up in her arms and sing me to sleep.

“When I was six she got remarried, and I wasn’t exactly warm to the idea of crawling into bed with her and my new stepdad. It was fine though, because I’d just slip into bed with Sam. We did that all the time when we were little. But that summer Sam went away to camp for six weeks. The next storm came through and I was so scared I hid in the closet and cried for half an hour before she finally woke up and heard me.”

Spock’s fingers trailed a consoling touch across his palm, as if he could reach through time and sooth the terrified little boy Jim had once been.

“She didn’t realize it was such a big deal for me, you know? I was pretty fearless as a kid. Always gave Mom miniature heart attacks by jumping out of the hayloft or riding Diablo when I wasn’t supposed to. One time I decided I could fly and jumped off the roof.”

Jim guided Spock’s fingers to the thin, jagged scar located at his hairline, just covered by the fringe of his bangs.

The next clap of thunder was much less intense than the two previous. Spock began to sink into Jim’s embrace.

“And it wasn’t just stupid daredevil stuff –I wasn’t afraid of the dark, and I accidentally watched _Halloween XXXVII_  when I was six, and didn’t have any nightmares. So she thought I’d already gotten over my fear of thunderstorms, or that it wasn’t even that bad in the first place.

“But, you know, finding me huddled in a closet and crying hysterically pretty much disproved that theory. She stayed up with me for the rest of the night. And then, when the next thunderstorm came through, she woke me up before the thunder got too bad and took me downstairs. She had set up a tent in the living room, and she pulled me inside and told me that for every crack of thunder I sat through without crying, she’d give me a cookie.

“She ran out of cookies.” Jim remembered with a smile. “We did it three or four times before I got over it. I mean, it took me until I was a teenager to sleep through them, but I was okay enough to stay in my room and play my gamesphere or read until they passed.”

Jim watched purple lightning pierce the sky, then closed his eyes and inhaled the comforting zing of ozone.

“I’m here for you, you know,” he said hesitantly.

As the thunder snapped, he kicked his foot onto the edge of the coffee table to swing them back and forth.

“If you ever get ups- unsettled by anything like this again, you can come to me. I don’t mind being woken up.”

For a long while Spock didn’t respond. It was only when the thunder and lightning had faded into the distance that he spoke.

“I woke to the lightning and for a brief moment believed myself to be on Caldn. I was back in the jungle, concealed with Chekov beneath the roots of an Ilvn bush, the ion canons blasting through the trees around us.” Spock paused, his head bowing. “And then I remembered.”

Jim tugged Spock closer, his chest constricting.

“I cannot decide which was worse.”

“It’s okay to miss him,” Jim said quietly. “I do.”

Spock gripped Jim’s thigh tight enough to skirt the edge of pain.

“It is illogical.”

The lightning and thunder were gone, but sky continued to weep.

“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “It is.”

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is a lyrical excerpt from "There Comes the Rain Again" by Eurythmics. Go. Listen. Annie Lennox is amazing.
> 
> Beta: St. Spockaholic


End file.
